Little One
by corvusdraconis
Summary: (Alternate Twist Story) Peter Pettigrew has always been underestimated, and that has served him well. But, now, Peter feels like he wants to be something more, so he tells the Dark Lord the location of the Potters. Surely, he will be feared and respected now! (Gift for Sehanine)


**Summary: (Alternate Twist Story)** Peter Pettigrew has always been underestimated, and that has served him well. But, now, Peter feels like he wants to be something more, so he tells the Dark Lord the location of the Potters. Surely, he will be feared and respected now!

 **A/N:** This story is for **Sehanine** , who has been gracious enough to beta some of my other stuff when my regular overworked and abused beta is off hiding in her closet hoping work doesn't eat her soul.

 **Beta Love:** (it would be odd having Sehanine beta her own gift story…) So, sorry if there are silly grammar mistakes in this one.

* * *

 **Little One**

The Dark Lord was a domineering presence, and no one in his inner or outer circle doubted that. In the beginning, he was charismatic, charming, and glib of tongue. He could charm the skin of a snake, and many believed he had with the way he hissed his language to the serpents and bent them to his will. No one could deny him. No one had the skill to stand up to him. It was the way his eyes bored into you, threatening your life without saying a word. Suggesting horrible things with a small smile of satisfaction as he talked of cherry trees and the new order that was to come.

His gaze was always calculating, unblinking, and cold like the serpents he talked to. No one knew this better than Peter Pettigrew. Because Peter was seldom taken as seriously by anyone of the Death Eaters, he often was like the servant in the Old Blood families. Invisible, even while he was standing in plain sight.

The Dark Lord hissed as he stared over the small bed. A long, green anaconda slithered around the young child, yawning toothily as she nestled around the child within. The huge serpent coiled around the child, tongue flicking in and out against the baby's cheek. The child's somewhat pudgy hands curled around her serpent blanket's scales. The anaconda hissed at the infant, settling her, and the child smiled and laughed, accidently bopping the anaconda on the head with her snake toy.

The Dark Lord snorted, plucking the toy from her hands and ran his clawed finger down the child's nose, his red eyes staring into her almost serpentine amber brown eyes that held flecks of yellow and green. She stared up at him for a moment, then lost interest, snuggling up in the anaconda's coils and went to sleep.

Peter kept his eyes down, yet every so often he'd look up to see a very uncharacteristic expression on the Dark Lord's face. There was something that was the very opposite of the blank expression his Lord regularly wore. It was far, far more dangerous.

"Wormtail," the Dark Lord hissed, his switch to English barely discernable from his hisses.

"Yes, my Lord!" Peter groveled.

"Since you were so… gracious as to provide the target of tonightssss, activitiesss, and I have sent Severus to secure my assets," the Dark Lord crooned, "I will give you the honour of watching Lady Coral while I deal with the Potters."

"Yes, Lord," Peter said, keeping his eyes down. "Of course, my Lord."

The Dark Lord's red eyes bored into him when Peter made the mistake of nervously looking up. "I do not need to remind you what will happen if she is… uncomfortable."

"No, Lord," Peter groveled.

"Good," Voldemort hissed. "You will hold to the plan, Wormtail. You will ensure she remains safe, and you will not go out and feed your grudge against Sirius Black. Leave him to me when I return victorious."

Peter bowed, "Yes, m'Lord. Of course."

Peter shuffled over to the small bed that had been specially made for her. Carved serpents formed into rails that kept her from falling out in her enthusiastic sleep. He looked in, and the emerald anaconda looked at him with unveiled suspicion. Her head pulled back as her coils tightened around the child—not so much to injure her, but to pull her away from the side of the bed and further away from Peter.

Peter looked at the serpent nervously, fully aware that he was a rat, and snakes considered him prey. Being good at being cunning was nothing when you were surrounded in serpentine gile. Being an infiltrator was nothing surrounded in snakes. Amongst the Gryffindor, he was the ultimate spy. Amongst the serpents, however, he was just a means to an end, and he knew it. Proving himself to his Lord would require him not going after Sirius Black on this particular night… even though he wanted to very, very badly.

The emerald Anaconda stared at him, unblinking, hatred for many things written on every scale. Peter had seen all the things the giant reptile had eaten; one of them had been his predecessor that failed his Lord.

The child laughed and hissed, grasping the anaconda by the head, giggling and hissing something to it. The snake nuzzled the girl on the chest, tongue extended to lick the girl on the chin. She giggled and hugged the serpent's head, oblivious to the danger the giant reptile posed.

As if to accentuate the danger that the infant was unconscious to, a coppermouth and an Inland Taipan slithered down the banister into the bed. The child giggled with happiness, pulling the coppermouth to her with a yank. Both new additions glared at Peter with unblinking eyes. Whether it was indifference or hatred, Peter wasn't sure, but he knew if he even made one wrong move toward the child, he would be dead in seconds either by venom or constriction if he was lucky. If he were unlucky, he would be swallowed alive as his lungs were crushed.

He swallowed hard. He believed he was on the winning side. That was why he sold out his friends, but unlike those like Snape, who could brew a potion with his eyes closed, Lucius with a hundred thousand contacts and monetary resources, Mulciber whose experiments on Muggles were second to none, or Bellatrix, who made up for sanity with pure fanatical fervor, he was nothing special in skills other than he was extremely underestimated. Being underestimated was not so horrible a thing unless you were trying to impress your Lord, and then it was extremely annoying.

Peter, however, knew things. Being practically invisible had its perks. He knew, for example, that Lucius and Narcissa were desperate to have a girl child, and that Narcissa was tightly bonded to little Lady Coral already. When the Dark Lord was off tending to other things, Narcissa Malfoy raised young Lady Coral with her son Draco Malfoy. This ensured loyalty. The Dark Lord was both cunning and ruthless in his using his own daughter to elicit commitment out of Lucius' wife. The child already had the Malfoy's wrapped around her chubby fingers. She soaked up everything around her like a sponge. She bossed around the few Death Eaters that were allowed to know of her with no fear at all, even when her words didn't quite come out in English or remotely understandable.

He knew that the Potters were holed up in Godric's Hollow and that Sirius had stupidly recommended that Peter be the Secret Keeper. He knew his Lord had given Lucius something of value to keep. He knew he had given Bellatrix something as well, and that was now buried in her vault somewhere. He also knew that this child had been Bellatrix' last act as a sane woman—her sacrifice to her beloved Lord.

Bellatrix had no interest in children. She had no interest for Rodolphus and gladly lay with her Lord to give him what he wanted, thus driving the wedge between her and her husband even more. But what had driven Rodolphus away, Peter knew, was her callous disregard for the fruit of her womb. On September 19th, 1979, as the bloody babe wailed in the arms of the midwife, Bellatrix turned her knife to the midwife and then had readied her cursed blade to sacrifice the child to her Lord only minutes from birth.

Voldemort had sailed into the room, red eyes blazing like the fires of damnation, backslapping Bellatrix away from the baby and Obliviating her in the same breath. He cradled the crying babe in his arms, stared at the murdered midwife, the Oblivated and giggling Bellatrix, and the stone-faced Rudolphus.

"Clean up this mess, Rudolphus," Voldemort had hissed, and left.

Peter knew that Rudolphus never said a word after that night. Bellatrix had descended even deeper into madness, the strain of giving birth and having a good chunk of her memories Obliviated broke her even more than before. The pair's marriage was in name only. Rudolphus would never say a word, Peter knew, because to do so would shame his family's honour having let anyone lay with his wife than him—even if it was the Dark Lord himself. It didn't matter that Bellatrix had wanted to.

The Dark Lord sequestered the child away at first, having Imperiused a wet-nurse for the child, which he named Coral. She was Coral Riddle, heir to the Dark Lord's legacy and to the Noble and Ancient House of Black. He was very careful to both give her the best education a child could have with an almost clinical precision. He left nothing to chance. She was made to socialise with the his inner knight's children, she pretended to cast things with her toy wand, walked before any of the other kids, followed simple directions, could identify potion ingredients on sight (thanks to Severus), and played a very dirty game of kickball that had broken a few of Malfoy's vases.

She punched Nott's child, Theodore on the nose when he stole her toy wand. She learned how to apologise from Narcissa. She wore robes instead of dresses, bossed Draco around like he was an imbecile. She learned manners from Lucius, some of which Peter thought were more lessons on how to treat people like servants than how to be polite, but he wasn't going to bring that up. But the most disturbing thing, short of her ability to hug the Dark Lord without being reprimanded, was her ability to sit quietly in Snape's lap during meetings. She would sit and fuss with his buttons, but she would remain quiet until the meeting was over. Her only glaring moment of needing remedial lessons was learning not to point Snape's wand at a random Death Eater and say "Crucio" like daddy did.

"Big witch spells, Coral," Snape would correct her, deftly exchanging his wand with the toy replica he had made as some random Death Eater moaned on the floor.

Voldemort raised a brow but seemed more satisfied than upset.

Peter had been one of those unfortunates on the receiving end of a Cruciatus cast by a two-year-old, and he had noted that age had nothing to do with the level of pain. They said that you had to mean it for a Cruciatus to work, but apparently young Lady Coral was more than capable of meaning it.

There was something very unnerving about a two-year-old with that sort of developed will. Peter wondered how much of it was hereditary and how much of it was being molded by some very scary role models at a young age.

She had, on a couple of occasions, ripped off the Death Eater mask off the nearest knight and peered through it with curiosity. Sometimes she would mix and match, having exchanged Nott's and Goyle's masks with a giggle. Despite it all, she was still a child, and there were some things a child could get away with, even in a gathering of Death Eaters.

Everywhere the child walked, the green anaconda followed her. The oversized serpent was her constant companion and guard. Sometimes she would gain another snake of some sort around her neck, but the anaconda was with her at all times. Bedtime, bathtime, or playtime, the giant snake was there.

Peter found it very disconcerting. The anaconda would always be watching as if debating on if he was worth the effort of crushing to death and eating. Sometimes, Peter was pretty sure that she would crush him to death even if she weren't going to eat him.

One thing Peter found very irritating was the child's fascination with Snape. Much like the person who doesn't like cats getting all the cats in his lap, the Dark Wizard always had Coral's attention. She would cling to his robes, sit in his lap, beg for stories, and follow him around. And, because Coral favoured him, the snakes favoured him, and so too, it seemed, did the Dark Lord. He loathed Snape. He had taken a particular special pride in tormenting Snape with James and Sirius long before he had made the decision that the Dark Lord gave him a far better chance of survival than the Order of the Phoenix.

Now, as a person trying to prove himself to the Dark Lord, he had to grovel and do the most menial of tasks to curry Voldemort's behaviour. Snape outranked him and did not trust him, and it became quite clear that the moment Peter did something remotely out of line, he would make sure Voldemort knew it.

Peter, too, attempted to get back at Snape out of principle, but Snape had a colossal ace in his hole: Coral. Every time Snape was at the Death Eater meetings, Coral was with him, and that meant the anaconda was with them. She always saw him. She always alerted him that Peter was there. And every time he had tried to follow Snape outside of the Death Eater meetings, the Dark Wizard did nothing out of line of what Voldemort wished him to do. It was infuriating.

Bellatrix, having realised perhaps that currying the child's favour gained Voldemort's, tried to gain the child's trust and support. Peter found that very ironic considering the woman had attempted to murder the child just after birth. It didn't work, however. Coral preferred Narcissa to Bellatrix and preferred Snape out of all the male Death Eaters. It caused no small amount of anger towards Snape on Bellatrix's part.

The Dark Lord, Peter knew, was not a loving sort of father. He was pretty sure Voldemort didn't know how to be. He knew how to fake it, per se, enough, at least, to placate the child in a manner that she wasn't stunted. She received enough love from Narcissa and Lucius to not feel neglected. He knew the book knowledge well enough, and he wasn't above manipulating his daughter as he did everyone else, but he did have a sort of gentle affection for the girl that was as close to emotion that Voldemort could be. No one doubted that the Dark Lord would murder anyone in cold blood if they threatened his daughter, and that was enough for any of them to know.

Now, two years, one month, and twelve days later, it was the eve of the Dark Lord's Ascension. He planned to murder those that opposed him and put an end to the threats to his power once and for all. He tucked his child in, threatened Peter with death if he didn't take care of her, and then swept the room to attend to his murderous plan. It was a night like any other, yet it was also a test. Peter had high hopes that once the Dark Lord came back from his mission, Peter will have gained Voldemort's favour at last. His revealing Potter's location was a secret no one else knew, not even the other Death Eaters. The Dark Lord wanted to attend to it personally. He would be a hero. He would finally be in the spotlight instead of being overlooked.

"Not Cissa," Coral noted. Her face was scrunched into a pout. She hissed something to the nearby copperhead. The smaller snake coiled itself around the girl's neck and watching him very carefully.

"Narcissa is attending to other matters," Peter replied. He knew she did not respond to baby talk. She was too smart for her own good.

She frowned at him. "Not Sev'rus," she added. She was obviously not happy with her change in regular babysitters.

"He is attending to your father's orders," Peter said truthfully.

"I don't like you," Coral announced, her eyes narrowing at him.

 _I don't like you either, you little shit,_ Peter thought to himself. "I wish you'd give me a chance," Peter placated.

"You don't like me," she said with an eerily calm expression. "Why should I?"

Fuck. Could she read minds like her father? Peter suppressed a flinch. "I'm sure once we got to know each other, we'd grow on each other," he suggested.

"You're a rat," she said quietly. "Rats steal food from the pantry and make Cissa mad."

The conversation did not get to continue any further because the girl let out a piercing scream. The giant anaconda broke into magical particles and seemed to diffuse into the girl's eyes. She cried all the while as the copperhead around her neck disappeared, and a strangely realistic tattoo of the serpent inked itself around her neck and then faded. The Inland Taipan that was curled around her feet broke into a streak of magic and disappeared under her night shirt. Coral, however, didn't stop crying.

It was in that very moment that Peter knew everything had gone wrong.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Peter ended up taking Coral with him as he apparated to Godric's Hollow. He walked in without concern, knowing the wards had been set to let him in. He was, after all, the Secret Keeper. When he practically tripped over James Potter's corpse, whose dead accusatory eyes seemed to bore into from the grave, Peter suppressed a flinch. He had many good times with James. The Potters should never have denied the Dark Lord. If they had just realised the Dark Lord was the future, they would have survived.

Peter narrowed his eyes. It was their own damn fault. The Dark Lord had asked them to join him three times. Peter hadn't been so stupid. He'd accepted on the first bloody offer.

Coral seemed to be in a silent almost catatonic state. She stared blankly into the distance, looking right through him. Her normally multi-coloured eyes had gone to a dark brown, and her normally wavy hair had turned into a bushy mess. He set her down next to Potter's corpse, figuring the dead couldn't hurt her, and darted up the stairs in rat-form. As he made his way down the hall to where he heard crying, he saw a boy wailing from his crib. There was a jagged scar on his forehead. On the floor in front of the crib was the dead Lily Potter and the empty black robes of the Dark Lord.

Peter darted out of the room in a hurry, scurrying down the hall back to where he had left Coral. He picked her up and pushed out the door. Just as he exited the house, lightning flashed as the storm rolled in, and the silhouette of Sirius Black stood at the front gate.

"I'm going to fucking kill you," Sirius yelled.

 _Aw, fuck._ Peter ran.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

One explosion, twelve dead Muggles, one lost finger, and a framed Sirius Black later, Peter was feeling pretty good about himself. He had finally ridden himself of the last person that would likely cause him problems. Lupin would be too busy hiding himself away with guilt and loathing, knowing him, and Peter was okay with that. He would also think Sirius had killed his best mates. That was even better.

Everyone who might have suspected him would think he was dead, and that was just fine by Peter. Dead men could get away with so many things. No one would suspect Peter Pettigrew of setting up his own death. The advantages of being underestimated became wonderfully clear. There was only one thing he had to do, now that his key to power and fame had gotten himself killed… get rid of the runt.

Now that the giant anaconda and the rest of Coral's serpent guards were gone, he could do what he wanted with the annoying too-smart child. No one would suspect him of doing it. He was dead. It was perfect. He could Obliviate the kid and leave her mind entirely free of her past as the Dark Lord's little one and, even more importantly, he could wipe any memories of magic from her as well. Without memories of magic and him, there would be no retribution. With the Dark Lord dead, Death Eaters would be too busy saving their own skins to wonder what had happened to poor murdered Peter Pettigrew. Excellent.

He pulled out his wand, trying to remember the intricate wand movements he needed to go with the Obliviate spell.

"Obliviate!" Peter said, pointing his wand at the child.

So intent on remembering the right wand moments, he had not noticed that Coral had James Potter's wand in her hand. She had it pointed at him with the cold hatred of a green anaconda reflected in her eyes.

She hissed something at him in Parseltongue as the spell hit him straight to the face.

The last thing Peter had thought before blackness claimed him was that he hated children.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Well, what do we have here?" Dumbledore said as he picked up the crying child.

The bushy haired child stopped wailing when Dumbledore passed her a lemon drop. She placed her hands on his beard and slapped his face with her hands in curiosity, almost shoving her hand into his nose.

Arthur Weasley held up a cage with a somewhat abused looking rat in it. "This guy has seen better days. I'd like to keep him for Percy if it's okay with you. He's been wanting to tame a rat for a pet for a year now."

"Seems okay with me, Arthur," Dumbledore said. "Though I question why you'd want to pick up some random street rat for your child."

Arthur shrugged. "Less money I have to give the pet shop."

Dumbledore grunted as the child in his arms pulled his pointed hat down over his face. He sputtered and adjusted his hat. "Seems even odder that a child would be sitting out in the park so near where those Muggles were murdered, Arthur. Something doesn't add up."

"Gracious me," Arthur said with concern. "Do you think she's a child of one of the… victims?"

Dumbledore frowned. "Quite possibly, I fear. Her mind is a mess, and I can only get fragments. I cannot press any further due to her age."

Arthur shook his head. "No need."

"I do, however, see the memory of her being held as she sees the silhouette of Sirius Black saying he's going to kill someone," Dumbledore confessed.

Arthur shook his head adamantly. "I can't peg him as a murderer, Albus."

Dumbledore frowned. "Until this moment, Arthur, nor could I." He paused and moved his head away from the child's seeking hands. "I have a few contacts with the Muggle authorities. I'll see what I can do."

Arthur frowned as he picked up a wand from the ground. It was broken. "Well, we can't run a trace on this wand to see what was cast from it. Pity. I might have told us more."

Albus sighed. "Go home, Arthur. Tell Molly how much you love her. We've had enough tragedy tonight. The rest can wait until tomorrow."

Arthur nodded. "Good night, Albus."

There was a crack as Dumbledore Disapparated.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Sign here please," the older man requested as he pushed the paperwork in front of him.

The couple both grabbed pens and hurriedly signed the lines at the bottom of the page

"Ah, there you go, all done," the man said with a nod and a smile. He stamped the paper and the papers underneath.

He pulled out a smaller certificate, put it in the typewriter, typed out a few lines, and pulled it out. He took a large stamp, ran it over some multicolored ink, and slammed it down over the certificate. Then, as if to prove that wasn't enough, pressed it into the embosser to imprint the official seal upon it.

"Nineteenth of September, nineteen seventy-nine," the older man said triumphantly. "Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Granger. Hermione Jean Granger is yours."

The young couple beamed at each other. "Thank you so much," they gushed, shaking the man's hands.

"The pleasure is mine," he replied with a smile. "Have a pleasant day, sir, ma'am."

Mrs Granger clasped Mr Granger's hand as tears of happiness trailed down her face. "We will," she said, her voice choked with emotion.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

At the Burrow, Scabbers placed his paws on Arthur Weasley's wand and tried to restore himself to human form.

Nothing happened.

"Percy!" Arthur called, picking up Scabbers by the scruff of the neck. "Your rat is in your mother's and my bedroom!"

"Coming, Dad!" Percy called, running in and taking Scabbers into his arms. "Sorry!"

"It's okay, son," Arthur said with a sigh. "He has this thing about going for wands for some reason. I'm going to have to start locking them up instead of leaving them out at night."

Scabbers seemed to panic, and he flung himself out of Percy's arms and scrambled across the bed and onto the bedside table. He placed his paws on Molly Weasley's wand.

Nothing happened.

Percy ran over and picked him up, extricating the wand from the rat's paws. "I don't know what's gotten into him, dad," Percy said. "I'm sorry."

Arthur shook his head. "We get what we paid for, unfortunately," he said. "Are you sure you don't want a real pet, Percy? We could save up and get you a proper owl or a cat."

Percy shook his head. "No dad," he replied. "I really want a rat."

Arthur shrugged. "Well, put him in his cage for tonight, son."

"Yes, dad," Percy replied, hugging his father before running off to bed.

"Rat touching the wands again, dear?" Molly asked as she came out of the shower.

Arthur shook his head. "He must have been trained by someone before I found him," he speculated. "It's like someone taught him to seek out wands like a trained animal."

"Could have been one of those Muggle magic trick animals, dear," Molly said.

"Huh," Arthur replied. "I'm going to have to do more research about Muggle things, I think."

"Later," Molly suggested. "Come to bed. I need to think less to worry less."

Arthur smiled. "At least the He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named isn't going to be around anymore, love. That's a positive."

Molly snuggled into her husband. "Let's try for a girl to celebrate."

Arthur leaned over quickly to blow out the candle by the bed. "Yes, ma'am."

And the rest, as the Muggles say, is history.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

 **A/N:** Alternate what-ifs are fun. I hope you liked it, Sehanine!


End file.
